


Captivity

by _Angel_ (Meganekko_Misery)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Begging, Bondage, Brainwashing, Cages, Collars, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dehumanization, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hand Feeding, Humiliation, Kidnapping, M/M, Master/Pet, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Sexual Slavery, Omorashi, Physical Abuse, Starvation, Stockholm Syndrome, Swearing, Touch-Starved, Underage Character(s), Verbal Abuse, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-11-07 00:34:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11047608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meganekko_Misery/pseuds/_Angel_
Summary: “If they’re looking for Viktor Nikiforov and Yuri Plisetsky, they won’t have any luck finding them here.”





	1. Chapter 1

_“Viktor!_ Come out! Where the _hell_ are you? Yuri calls, his frustration with the situation worsening with every passing minute. “VikTOR”

Yuri let’s a harsh sigh escape his throat, and pauses in the middle of the sidewalk, swiveling his neck to get a good look at the surrounding buildings and shops. He stares hard at the people passing by, most on foot, but several on bikes, wondering if Viktor is somewhere amongst the crowd. Pfft, who was he kidding? Yuri knew his rinkmate well enough to know that Viktor couldn’t blend in anywhere if he tried, especially not in the small, seaside town of Hasetsu. No, Viktor was probably passed out on the floor of some bar, blissfully sleeping the morning away.

_I should have brought spare clothes._ Yuri thinks with a shudder, knowing Viktor’s tendency to get separated from his undergarments after several drinks too many. _Maybe I should put up a sign._ He snorts to himself. _Lost Russian skater- 6 feet tall, with thinning grey hair. Answers to the name “Viktor” or “Vitya.”_

Yuri rolls up the sleeves of his tiger shirt as he thinks about this, trying to distract himself from the nagging concern kicking around in the back of his mind. The part of him that keeps suggesting “What if.” _What if_ this isn’t just Viktor being flaky? _What if_ his disappearance is something a lot more sinister? A heinous crime, like a kidnapping or even a murder- it just doesn’t seem like it could happen in a town like Hasetsu, not when the sun is shining so brightly and the waves are rolling up against the beach. Not when people are walking their dogs and greeting each other as they go about their day, shopping or heading off to work.

Inhaling sharply, Yuri cups his hands around his mouth and hollers for Viktor again, attracting the attention of several locals. Most of them glance over for a second and continue on their way, but one of them steps out from under the awning of a building.

“Excuse me, are you looking for Mr. Nikiforov?” He asks, as though Yuri’s outbursts hadn’t made it obvious enough. He leans on a cane while speaking, which Yuri finds odd- this man is probably around Viktor’s age, which isn’t old, no matter how often Yuri says it is.

“Yeah. You’ve seen him?” Yuri responds, grateful that this wild goose chase was finally ending.

“Yuri Plisetsky, am I correct?”

“That would be me. I’ve come to take that idiot back to Yu-Topia.” Yuri explains. “What was Viktor doing last night?” He asks this despite already having a fairly good idea of what Viktor had been up to.

“Oh, I’m sure you know his usual habits,” The man chuckles.

Yuri gives an affirmative nod, feeling his lip curl in disgust.

“Mr. Nikiforov was wandering around last night- drunk of course. I think he was lost. He ended up in my yard. He’s inside now, probably still asleep.”

“Ugh, I knew it,” Yuri slaps his forehead with a sigh. “Alright, take me to him!”

“Right this way.” The man says it like he’s showing Yuri to his table at a restaurant, or helping him find a specific product in a store.

_That idiot._ Yuri thinks again, sticking his hands in his pockets and rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. _Going out drinking when he says he’s walking the dog._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to A-Puddle-of-Desperation on tumblr, who helped me come up with the idea! This story would not be happening without her.
> 
> Also, If anyone's wondering why a random guy was so familiar with Viktor's habits, it's because I like the headcanon that most everyone in Hasetsu has seen Viktor being drunk and disorderly and/or naked at one time or another, so they're used to it by now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you for taking an interest in this story! FYI, now would be a great time to check the tags if you haven't already. Just wanted to give you a heads up so nobody feels surprised when certain themes/elements are depicted in later chapters. 
> 
> Thanks again!
> 
> \- Angel

_Waking up in a cage is never a good sign._ Viktor thinks. _Unless perhaps, you and your fiance decided to try “Spicing things up” in the bedroom the night before._ For a minute, Viktor almost hopes that's the case, but soon comes to the grim conclusion that it isn’t. For starters, Yuuri would never tie his hands _this_ tightly, even if they were “experimenting.” And he’d never leave the lights off in a room that, judging by the total darkness, didn’t have any windows. And Yuuri would never ever ignore Viktor as he shouted himself hoarse, asking what he was here for. No, Viktor can tell he’s in a bad situation now. _Very bad._

As the full weight of his predicament hits him, a chill runs down Viktor’s spine, and he shudders against the bars of the cage. He isn’t sure how long he’s been unconscious for, but he estimates several hours, judging by the ache in his back and the lack of circulation in his hands. The cage forces him into a hunched, unnatural, position, and presses square shaped indentations into his head. He’s unable to get comfortable in the tiny space, and the inability to move around or view his surroundings sends him into a panic.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” Viktor shouts, for the tenth time. He tries greeting his captor in both English and Japanese, but it’s futile. Viktor figures that assessing his kidnapper's goal is probably the best course of action, but it doesn’t seem like he’s inside right now.

_Or maybe he just likes hearing me scream._ Viktor thinks, feeling his stomach sink.

Despite his racing thoughts, Viktor is able to think of a few reasons as to why someone would do this. The most likely situation was ransom, but it could also be one of his fans- perhaps someone who wasn’t too happy about his impending marriage. He desperately hopes it’s the former. If all his captor wants is money, that can be cleared up easily enough. If they want _him,_ well...that’s a different story.

Resting his head on his knees and taking deep breaths, Viktor tries to get his memories of the previous night in order. He remembers being near the beach, taking Makkachin for a walk, and then-

He doesn’t get very far before a nerve wracking question presents itself, causing his head to shoot back up.

_Where’s Makkachin?_

Viktor glances around, though he can’t see anything in the darkness, and he surely would have heard Makkachin whimpering if he was in here. Nevertheless, he calls to his dog, just to be certain.

“M-Makkachin? Are you in here?” His voice wavers as a surge of anxiety rolls over him.

There’s no response.

_Maybe he got away._ The thought boarders on wishful thinking, but Viktor’s situation is bad enough as it is, and he doesn’t want to dwell on the idea of Makkachin being dead. Not when everything else is already going so horribly wrong. Pressing his forehead to his knees again, Viktor tries in vain to calm down as he remembers the rest of the evening.

He’d been walking Makkachin by the beach, when someone approached him. Viktor couldn’t see terribly well in the dark, but he could tell that the other man had a cane, and hair that fell to his shoulders.

“Viktor Nikiforov?” He’d asked with a small smile.

“Yes, hello,” Viktor greeted warmly, as he’d done with fans so many times before.

The man, who said he was a fan of figure skating, had asked for an autograph. He didn’t have paper on him, but he’d said he’d let Viktor sign his phone case instead. Viktor had stood there in the dim evening while the man rummaged in his pockets, and Makkachin chewed grass.

“Ah, here it is.” The man had handed Viktor the pen and the case, and Viktor squinted as he signed his name, neatly as he could.

That’s when his memories become jumbled. Viktor thinks he might have sensed something before he fell- a hand on his shoulder and prick on the back of his neck. He has the vague recollection of toppling onto the grass and flailing heavy limbs, before succumbing to whatever had been used to knock him out.

Viktor looks up once more when the memory ends. It offers no explanations as to why he’s being kept here, and what became of Makkachin. He shifts in the cage to try and restore some of the feeling in his hands, and prevent his legs from suffering the same fate. It doesn't help much.

_I am never complaining about cramped plane seats again._ Viktor thinks. Then again, he isn’t even sure if he’ll have another chance to fly on a plane at all. This thought doesn’t exactly do wonders for his nerves, and instead of taking deep, calming, breaths, he ends up hyperventilating, asking himself over and over again,

_Who would do this?_


	3. Chapter 3

“...What the hell...?” Is the first thing Yuri mutters as he blinks his heavy eyelids to take in his situation. There’s hard plastic pressing against his cheek, and his arms seemed to have lost all feeling. Yuri mumbles to himself as he tries to get up, wondering how he got into this in the first place.

 Oh... _oh._

 Green eyes fly open as it hits him, and Yuri writhes in the cage, remembering the man, the arm on his shoulder, and something pricking into his neck. He figures those had something to do with...this...this...Whatever _this_ even is.

 “What the...what the fuck?! What even...what’s going on here? What the fuck is going on?!” The words tumble from his lips and echo in the otherwise silent room.

 “Calm down, calm down,” Someone murmurs. _It’s Viktor._ So Yuri has finally found him.

 Yuri shifts in his cage as much as the small space will allow, and turns to see Viktor in the opposite corner of the room. Viktor is in the same predicament as he is: Locked up in a cage clearly meant for a large dog, with his wrists bound behind his back.

 “What the _fuck,_ " Yuri asks again, feeling adrenaline coursing through his body. He struggles in the cage, but it isn’t any serious attempt to escape- just a way to expend the sudden rush of energy.

 “Yuri, calm down. I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to stay calm. I’m glad you’re awake.” Viktor is trying to stay cool, but Yuri can hear the unmistakable tremor in his voice.

 “Viktor, what the _hell_ is this? Tell me _now,_ ” Yuri demands, as if Viktor is responsible for the capture of them both. Well, he technically is. Sort of.

 “I don’t know.” Viktor heaves a sigh, casting his eyes downward. “I don’t know. I-” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “The man captured me when I was walking Makkachin. He used some sort of drug in a needle. I’ve been here since last night, Yurio, and I don’t know a _thing._ ”

 Yuri’s eyes widen as he listens to Viktor. _This is not happening. This isn’t real._ He can’t believe he was stupid enough to let himself be captured, by _voluntarily following a stranger_ into _his_ _house_ of all ways. Leaning his head against the side of the cage as he mentally berates himself, Yuri wonders where the hell a decade of warnings from his grandfather about “Stranger danger” and “Bad people who want to hurt you.” had gone.

 “You were looking for me, weren’t you?” Viktor asks, staring at the ground. There’s guilt written all over his face, though it has no purpose being there. This isn’t his fault.

 “Yeah.” Yuri answers. “Katsudon was wondering where you went, and you know how he gets when he’s nervous. I went to search for you so he’d stop moping...We assumed you’d been out drinking or something.”

 “Oh...god.” Viktor slumps, leaning his head on his knees. “What have I done?”

 “It’s not your fault,” Yuri mutters, though he knows it won’t do much good. Viktor is undoubtedly worrying about Yuuri’s reaction to his disappearance, and Yuri doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t say it out loud, but Yuri is sure that if he loved someone as much as Viktor loves that stupid Katsudon, he’d be worrying too.

 Yuri takes in his surroundings, not that there’s much to take in at all. They’re in what appears to be a small bedroom, without a bed, dresser, or anything else you’d expect to find in one. The wooden floor is dusty, and the ceiling is practically dripping with cobwebs. There’s one part of the wall, a few feet from Yuri’s cage in the corner, with a cracked board crudely nailed over it. Yuri guesses that the plank of wood is being used to cover a window. Diagonally across from him is Viktor, who looks, quite frankly, ridiculous, stuffed into a dog cage he can barely sit up in.

 “The fuck does this bastard want us for?”

 Viktor shakes his head. “I don’t know Yurio. He hasn’t said anything yet.”

 “Not even when he locked me up?”

 He shakes his head again. “Nothing besides… ‘I’ve brought you a friend.’”

 “This guy is fucking sick.” Yuri hisses, struggling against the ropes. “I can barely feel my hands. How long was I out for?”

 “I don’t know.”

 “You don’t _know_?”

 “Do you see a clock in here?” Viktor raises his voice slightly.

 “How did he get you?”

 Viktor hangs his head and sighs. “He said he wanted my autograph. It was dark, and I was signing his phone case and...I couldn't see he had a syringe. I don’t know what was in it, but I couldn’t move and I passed out a minute or so later. It’s probably the same as what he used on you.

 Yuri lets out a harsh exhale, realizing he’s able to move his fingers a little bit. He grits his teeth as his hands sear with pain after being numb for so long.

 “I’m glad you're okay,” Viktor says suddenly.

  _“Okay?_ The fuck do you mean by _‘Okay?’”_ In case you haven’t noticed, I’m stuck in a fucking-”

 “I’m just glad you’re awake.”

 “Huh?”

 “It was...scary, seeing you unconscious for so long. I was getting a little worried that you...you know, wouldn’t wake up at all.”

 “ _You_ woke up.” Yuri retorts.

 “I didn’t know how you’d react to...whatever he injected us with. You’re considerably smaller than me, and I just didn’t know if…”

 Yuri huffs. “Well, I did wake up. And I’m _fucking_ pissed at whoever had the nerve to-” He turns his head as the door opens with a loud creek.

 “I hope I’m not interrupting. I thought I heard conversation.”

 Yuri’s eyes fixate on the man standing just outside the door frame. It’s the same one who’d lead him to the house several hours earlier.

 “You tell me what’s going on _right now,_ ” Yuri barks, glowering at the man standing above him.

 All he receives in response is a chuckle, and a noncommittal shrug.

 “You’re mine now. Both of you are. What more is there to know?”

 “Why the fuck you’d-”

 “Yurio,” Viktor interjects. His tone is hushed, and Yuri can see his eyes are wide with fear. _Don’t piss him off._ They seem to say. _You’ll get us both killed._

 “That’s not his name anymore,” The man states, turning his attention towards Viktor. Yuri can tell he’s referring to any variation of his name at all- not just ‘Yurio.’

 “And you can forget about your own as well.” He adds, when Viktor doesn’t respond. “I’m coming into work late today, just so I can help you get settled into your new home. _Do_ show a bit of gratitude.”

 “The f-” Yuri starts.

 And don’t-,” He strikes his cane on the ground for emphasis. “Interrupt me when I’m speaking to you.”

 Yuri stays quiet, but the pointed glare on his face remains.

 “We have rules in this house. If you break them, there _will_ be consequences. Don’t test me. My patience is limited."

 He strolls over to Viktor, and looks at him through the bars of the cage.

 “Five consecutive gold medals is entirely too many. I think it’s safe to say that you won’t be winning any more. And as for _you..._ ”  He walks over to Yuri, and stares at him in the same way he did Viktor. “I know you’re disappointed that your skating career is being cut short, but well...we can’t _all_ get what we want, can we, pet?”

 Yuri grits his teeth, he’s practically shaking with the effort of holding back a torrent of choice words.

 “I know you don’t like me now, and I understand. But you will soon enough. That, I guarantee.” Their captor turns to leave, but Viktor speaks up.

 “Wait.”

 “You shall call me Master if you _must_ address me _.”_

“Well I…” Yuri sees Viktor contemplating, deciding whether or not his pride is worth keeping, for at least a little longer.

 It isn’t. When Viktor speaks again, his head is bowed and his voice is quiet and servile.

 “I...I must address you, Master.” Viktor gives a nervous chuckle as he plays into the man’s sick game. Rage bubbles inside Yuri as he watches this, and biting his lip is all he can do to keep himself from shouting.

 “...Master...would you...consider untying the ropes?” Viktor asks. The words sound unnatural and strained coming out of his mouth.

 “Are they hurting you that badly?”

 “I can’t...I can’t feel my hands.”

 “I can’t feel my hands, _Master_.” Their captor corrects.

 Yuri wants to vomit.

 Viktor repeats the phrase, and gives their captor a pleading look. To Yuri’s surprise, he obliges, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking the small side door on the cage. He reaches in, and the ropes against Viktor’s hands are slowly loosened, then removed.

 Viktor thanks the man and holds his hands up to his face, cracking his knuckles and wriggling his fingers.

 “Don't get too comfortable. I’m not giving you _that_ much freedom.”

 Viktor’s hands are seized once more, tied in front of him this time. He grimaces at the ropes, but says nothing, not until their captor reaches the door.

 “Wait, um...Master?”

 “What now?”

 “Would you...let me use the restroom...?” Viktor shifts in the cage, seemingly unable to meet their captor’s eye.

 He turns around and scoffs at Viktor, one hand on the door handle. “Already trying to escape, pet? I just did you a favor. Don’t ask for another so soon.”

 With that final response, he shuts the door, leaving Viktor and Yuri on their own again.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Chapter 4 is here. @Everyone who clicked on this fic for the omorashi: I see you, and I'm now delivering what you've all been waiting for! Hoooray!
> 
> For everyone else who isn't into piss...Buckle up and try to enjoy the ride, I guess? Or sit this one out. No judgment if you do.

“What the hell was _that?_ ” Yuri spits, glaring at Viktor from across the room. “It was disgusting.”

 “ _That?”_ He raises his eyebrows. “That was me trying to keep us alive, Yurio.” Viktor struggles to keep his voice even.

 “Tch. Do your hands feel any better?”

 “They do, as a matter of fact.”

 “Good for you…” Yuri mutters.

 Viktor sighs, and softens his voice. “Yuri…” he begins. Using his real name gets his attention immediately.

 “What?”

 “We’re in a bad situation right now.”

 “I noticed.”

 “ _Listen,_ Yuri.” Viktor’s voice takes on a tone of almost fatherly sternness, and the teenager eyes him with suspicion. “I know this is difficult, but our job right now is to _survive_. It’s utterly ridiculous that he wants us to sit in cages and call him Master,  but until someone finds us, and hauls his ass off to prison, we need to do what we can to get by.”

 A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Yuri’s mouth, and he seems to consider Viktor’s words. For a moment at least. Then, the smile turns to a broken, hollow, laugh.

 “Yuri, what is it?” Viktor asks, though he figures the sudden onset of giggles is just a reaction to the stress.

 “Nothing.” Yuri chuckles. “Well, no. It is something. You know how they say...be careful what you wish for?”

 Viktor nods, though he narrows his eyebrows in confusion.

 “I always wanted to be kidnapped when I was little. I thought it would make my mother pay attention to me. It’s just funny that it really happened, that’s all.” Yuri shrugs when Viktor remains silent, unsure of how to respond.

 “I don't think it’s very funny.”

 Yuri shrugs again and flops back against the side of the cage, staring at the wall across from him. Viktor knows this is around the time that Yuri would normally be taking out his phone and scrolling through instagram, smiling at a few of the skaters’ pictures, and scowling at the rest, but their captor has confiscated, and most likely destroyed, both of their phones, along with their shoes, Yuri’s sunglasses, and worst of all, Viktor’s engagement ring. When he’d realized this several hours earlier, he’d been too panicked to pay it much attention, but now he grits his teeth, staring at the empty space on his finger. _What a bastard._

 Seeing as there’s nothing for either of them to do while locked in the quiet, dusty, room, it isn’t long before Viktor and Yuri are talking with each other again.

 “I wonder if they’ve reported us missing already.”

 “Aren’t you supposed to wait twenty four hours?” Yuri asks.

 “I don’t know the guidelines. It might be sooner, since you’re a minor,” Viktor replies, though his guess is as good as Yuri’s.

 “Did he give you anything to eat? I’m starving.”

 “No. I’m hungry as well.” _And I have to pee._ Viktor thinks, though he doesn’t say it out loud. It would only serve to make them both feel awkward.

 “Ughh, I could really go for some Pirozhki.”

 “I’d like Katsudon.”

 “Katsudon Pirozhki.”

 “Ok, stop, you’ll just make it worse.” Viktor’s stomach grumbles audibly, but he chuckles, in spite of this.

 Yuri pauses for a minute.

 “Why...why _exactly_ do you think he wants us?” His voice is just a above a whisper, like he doesn’t really want to contemplate the possibilities.

 “...Some people are...sick, Yuri.”

 “No shit.”

 Viktor feels a pang below his stomach, and shifts his legs to relieve some of the pressure. He’s had to go since he woke up, but, having had nothing to drink since yesterday evening(?), he’s been able to ignore it for a while. This is far from the first time Viktor’s had a full bladder in an inconvenient situation, though none of the past situations were _quite_ as disconcerting as this one. He knows he can’t wait forever though, and the urge is getting increasingly difficult to ignore.

 “I’m guessing this man likes the power trip he gets from controlling others,” Viktor replies, glad to have some sort of distraction.

 “Do you think he’s going to...hurt us? More than he already has, I mean.” Yuri looks up and faces Viktor. There’s a rare vulnerability in his expression, now that the initial panic has worn off, and he has an indefinite amount of time to consider his predicament.

 “Thinking about that isn’t going to do you or me any good, Yuri.”

 “You can’t blame me for wanting to _know_ ,” He retorts, voice quavering slightly.

 “I understand, but what good would knowing do anyways?”

 “...It wouldn’t do any good.” Yuri finally mutters, resting his chin on his knees and shifting so he’s facing the wall. “My hands are killing me.”

 Viktor wonders if Yuri is ignoring him because he gave a dissatisfactory answer, or if he’s trying to hide tears. It’s not like Viktor would judge him if he _is_ crying, but he’s aware that his ability to comfort others is hit or miss. As much as he’d like a conversation to distract him from the growing fullness in his bladder, he can tell that Yuri doesn’t want to talk. Instead, Viktor tries thinking about Yuuri, about Makkachin, about what’s probably going on at Yu-Topia right now. These thoughts bring a bittersweet smile to his lips, and the ache it brings to his chest is enough to distract him from his steadily increasing discomfort. For a few minutes at least.

 Yuri suddenly breaks the silence, shifting around to face Viktor again.

 “I wonder what Otabek’s doing.” He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, but his voice sounds dreary.

 “Wondering where you went of course!” Viktor responds.

 “I hope not. He came to Hasetsu for a vacation, not to sit around worrying about me.”

 “Well, I’m sure everyone back at Yu-Topia is going to start wondering where we went, if they haven't already…And if Yuuri doesn’t think I’m in trouble, he probably thinks I’m leaving him, poor thing.”

 “ _You’re_ stuck in a cage,” Yuri responds with a roll of his eyes. “Katsudon isn’t the one who needs pity.”

 Viktor ignores this remark, knowing that the last thing they want to do is fight, and gives Yuri a strained smile instead. “We’ll get out of this soon enough.” He tries to reassure him.  “I know we will.”

 “Yeah, by sucking up to this douche and-”

 “If that’s what we need to do, then yes.” Viktor replies. “I have a fiance, and a career to return to. I’m going to do whatever it takes to stay _alive_ , even if it seems stupid to you.”

 “Suit yourself.”

A few minutes pass. Viktor taps his feet against the bottom of the cage, and Yuri stares off into space.

 “Ugh, I wish I knew where Makkachin went.” Viktor sighs. There’s nothing he’d like more now than to cuddle up with his dog and run his fingers through his soft fur. Then again, he’d much rather have Makkachin running around Hasetsu (to hopefully be found and taken in by a kind local) than have him locked up and suffering here.

 “Yeah…” Yuri acknowledges. “You think he got away, right?”

 “I hope so...I mean..” Viktor shifts again, grimacing at the way the elastic of his semi-fitted sweatpants digs into his bladder. “I don’t remember what happened very well, but Makkachin was barking...I think he would have run off if that man tried to touch him…”

 Yuri nods. “I think so too.”

 Viktor isn't sure if he’s just saying that to make him feel better (Because Yuri seldom says anything to make _anyone_ feel better), but regardless of the intention, it does help. There’s a nagging worry in the pit of Viktor’s stomach that tells him Makkachin wouldn’t leave his owner’s side, not even if his owner was unconscious and being dragged across the ground by a stranger, but he tries to brush it aside. Viktor is convinced that most of Hasetsu’s residents are nice people (slightly less convinced, now that certain events have transpired, but still mostly convinced) and he knows that pretty much everyone has seen him walking his dog before. Those who don’t know Viktor as an internationally famous figure skater know him as Yuuri Katsuki’s fiance, so if someone finds Makkachin, they’ll know where to take him. This thought calms him a bit, and Viktor’s thoughts drift back to his current situation, and his rather... _pressing_ need.

 Tapping his foot and shifting his hips against the floor of the cage helps alleviate the constant throbbing, and Viktor is glad that just his hands are tied. He can still move his feet and legs freely, though crossing them is practically impossible in the small space.

 “I wonder what time it is.” Yuri says, squinting at the board over the window. There’s a tiny amount of light shining through the crack in the wood, so Viktor figures it’s probably the middle of the day by now.

 “I think...it’s afternoon.”

 “Of today?”

 “What do you mean by ‘Of today.;”

 “Like...how much time has passed? Is it tomorrow already?”

 “That doesn’t make sense, Yuri.”

 “Did I sleep through a whole day?”

 “No, more like half a day.”

 “Ok.” Yuri nods, even though there isn't much that either of them can do with that information.

 Viktor goes quiet after this, focusing on tensing and relaxing his legs. If Yuri has picked up on his desperation, he hasn’t said anything, but Viktor still tries to keep his motions as subtle as possible. Unfortunately, the combination of the confined space, and the drawn out silence, and the lack of things to focus on, makes this a considerable challenge.

 “So, Yuri. Anything you’d like to talk about?” Viktor asks, in a feeble attempt to focus on something that _isn’t_ his overfilled bladder.

 “Not really. My mouth is dry, and talking will just make it worse. I hope that bastard gives us some water soon.”

 “Oh ok.” Viktor nods, trying not to let the disappointment show in his voice. Come to think of it, he’s pretty thirsty as well, though water is the last thing he wants to focus on right now.

 A sharp spasm hits him, and Viktor jiggles his leg, rattling the side of the cage. This finally succeeds in getting Yuri’s attention, and he looks over with concern.

 “You okay?”

 “Yes.” Viktor nods, forcing another smile. “My foot just fell asleep.”

 “That sucks.”

 The second time Viktor’s foot strikes the bars, he knows his cover is blown.

 “Seriously, is something wrong?” Yuri asks, green eyes narrowed.

 “No, it’s just, this cage is too small and-”

 “I’m not stupid, Viktor. You’re sweating, _and_ you look pale.”

 “Yuri it’s just-”

 “ _Don’t_ try to hide it from me, I’m _not_ a baby! You don’t have to pretend you’re okay for my sake.”

 “Yuri, that’s not it-”

 “Do you think it’s the stuff he gave you? In the needle? Making you sick, I mean.”

 “No no, I just haven’t eaten in a wh-” A sharp gasp interrupts Viktor’s sentence as he feels his control slip. With some effort, he manages to regain it, but not in time to stop a leak from dampening his underwear. _This is bad. This is very bad, maybe I should just admit-_

 Viktor’s panicked train of thought is abruptly cut off, thanks to Yuri, who’s shouting at the top of his lungs in the general direction of the door.

 “HEY! GET IN HERE. VIKTOR’S SICK BECAUSE OF YOU! IF YOU KEEP HIM HERE, YOU’RE LOOKING AT A MURDER CHARGE!”

 “Yuri, stop, I’m not sick!”

 “You look it! And I was injected with that crap too, so I’m not taking any chanc-”

 “I have to pee, alright!?” Viktor finally blurts out, turning his head a moment later.

 “Wha- oh. Oh that explains it…” Yuri averts his eyes as well.

 “Don’t go shouting like that.” There’s a blush spreading on Viktor’s cheeks, and he keeps his eyes glued to the floor of the cage.

 “I was just trying to help.”

 “I know. But he’ll-” Viktor makes another noise of discomfort and shifts again. “Damn, I can’t…”

 As much as he wants to avoid thinking about it, Viktor knows how this is going to end. He clenches his teeth and let’s out a pained hiss, practically rocking the cage with his agitated motions.

 “Do you want me to call for him?” Yuri asks, staring at him with wide eyes.

 “No, Yuri, he’s...he’s probably not even here, I- think he said something about going to work.”

 “Well then-” Yuri’s eyes dart around the room, futily searching for something, _anything_ to help him. “Um, do you think you can get your hands untied?”

 “Maybe...but what good will that do when the cage is locked?” Viktor sighs, feeling himself getting closer and closer to just giving in.

 “You could...go outside the cage? The gaps are big enough that you could-”

 Viktor shakes his head, “It’s possible that I could get the knot undone with my teeth, but then it will look like I’m trying to escape...It just...it doesn’t seem like a smart idea.”

 “Then what the fuck are you supposed to do!? How can this man just-?!”

 “Yuri, I…” Viktor bites his lip. His pulsing bladder feels like it’s about to burst, and he knows there’s no point in trying to delay the inevitable. He’s helplessly leaking again, a steady trickle dampening his pants, and darkening the light grey fabric.

 “Can- can you just...turn around…?” He’s aware of how pathetic this request sounds, and he can’t help the quaver in his voice as his says it, but if Viktor Nikiforov is going to piss himself, he’d rather do it while he _isn’t_ being stared at.

 Yuri gives him a silent nod, and rotates so he’s facing the wall. A moment later, Viktor feels warmth spreading across his lap and pooling onto the floor beneath him. He has to bite his cheek to suppress a moan- he doesn’t want to make this any more humiliating than it has to be. Although Yuri can’t see him, Viktor is acutely aware that he can hear every hiss and splatter, and the unmistakable sound of liquid against plastic.

 As awful as it feels to be urinating on himself while crammed in a cage in a lunatic’s house, he can’t deny that the immense relief is the best thing he’s felt all day.

 As soon as his bladder is fully emptied, Viktor freezes, unable to speak, move, or otherwise react. He’d known there was no avoiding this, but that doesn’t make sitting in a puddle of his own piss any less mortifying.

 A noise catches in Viktor’s throat, and he tries to calm himself again, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes.

 “Can I...Can I turn around now?” Yuri asks.

 “Sure, what does it matter?” Viktor manages to choke out, opening his eyes once more, and staring helplessly at the damage. Sitting in piss is hardly less embarassing than the actual act _of_ pissing, but he can’t expect Yuri to stare at the wall for hours on end while his pants dry.

 Viktor doesn’t even try to meet his eyes when he hears Yuri shifting in his cage. Instead, he concentrates on keeping himself from unraveling any more than he already is. He fixates on the patterns of the wooden walls, the feeling of his bangs brushing against his cheek, the rhythm of his breathing he’s trying so hard to keep steady. Anything to keep him from thinking about the dripping mess in his lap.

 He’s so focused on keeping himself together that he almost tunes out a series of indignant outbursts from Yuri.

 “This is fucked up. This is _fucked up!_ ”

 “I...I know.”

 “He can’t do this to us. He just _can’t!"_

 “Yuri there's...there’s nothing we can do right now. Yelling isn’t going to make it better.” Viktor shakes his head slowly as a tear drips off his nose. Then another one falls from his chin, joining the pool of liquid on the floor.

 “He made you _piss yourself!_ Aren’t you going to say anything about it!? Aren’t you going to say _something_ about that bastard!?”

 “Yuri, Please.” Viktor wishes he could cover his face, but the ropes make this impossible.

 “But Viktor! Can you believe-”

 “Be quiet, Yuri. I’m getting a headache.” It comes out as a strained growl, which is a step up from a sob, but not by much.

 “Fine. Whatever.” Yuri snaps, turning his back once more.

 Viktor doesn’t have the energy to reply. He lets his head fall to his knees, only to lift it when he’s hit by the smell of urine. He wishes he could change his position, but the cage makes that nearly impossible, and he doesn’t want to try any contortion right now. All Viktor can do until their captor returns is sit.

 And wait.

 And wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Ehmotep and A-Puddle-of-Desperation, who reviewed this chapter and gave me suggestions. Love you guys, hope you enjoyed this <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than the last, but I promise another is coming soon!

Yuri’s stomach growls audibly, and his frown deepens. He hasn’t spoken with Viktor in...an hour? An hour and a half? He isn’t sure. He’d ceased all attempts at conversation after Viktor had snapped at him, not that he could blame him _entirely._ Yuri would probably have reacted the same way (or worse)  if he’d been the one pissing himself.

 He can’t tell if he’s imagining it, but Yuri thinks the light shining through the cracked board is dimmer than before. Evening is coming. He knows he was knocked out for about half a day after being injected, but the unending hours of boredom, hunger, and dehydration are making his eyelids heavy. Since he isn’t talking to Viktor, and his racing thoughts consist of nothing but worries, self criticism, and curses directed at their captor, he decides it can’t hurt to try and sleep. At least then he won’t have to fret about what their captor might have in store for them, or agonize over how he could have prevented this, or focus on his unmet physiological needs.

 Yuri leans back against the bars and shuts his eyes, somehow managing to slip into a restless, unpleasant, sleep. The first time he wakes, it’s to the visceral sensation of falling. After sitting up with a gasp and crashing his head against the bars of the cage, Yuri is relieved to find he’s on solid ground. He is not relieved to see that he’s still locked in the cage.

 The next time his eyelids open, he thinks he’s in his own bed. This illusion lasts for less than a minute, when he’s floating in the liminal space between wakefulness and rest. _Time to get up_ . He thinks. He’s foot is asleep, along with his hands. _I need to pee...I need to make some breakfast._ These words run through his mind before the harsh reality crashes down on him once more, reminding him that he isn’t in his apartment, or Lilia’s house, or a hotel room.

  _He’s trapped in a nightmare._

 The third time he wakes up, it’s to a heavy creak and a resounding bang.

 Their captor is standing in front of the closed door, leaning on his cane, and wearing what appear to be his work clothes- a collared white shirt and dress pants. A look of amusement spreads across his face as he takes in the state of his two victims: There’s Viktor, who's still soaked in urine, and Yuri, who’s sleepy eyes are quickly widening in fear.

 “Alright, pet, get up. It isn’t nap time.”

 Yuri blinks and looks around, wondering why he can’t feel three out of his four limbs, when a foot collides with the bars of his cage.

 “Get up. I won’t ask nicely this time.”

 So Yuri does. Well, he sits up as much as possible. He can’t exactly stand.

 “As for you.” The man begins.

 Yuri bounces his leg as the man scolds Viktor, trying to get the blood flowing again. He starts wondering if it’s possible for someone's limbs to shrivel up and fall off due to lack of circulation.

 “You’ve made such a mess.” Their captor clicks his tongue, glaring at Viktor with mock surprise. “All over the floor of your cage.” He shakes his head. “I guess we’ll have to housetrain you, won’t we pet?”

 Yuri stares at this interaction with disgust, unable to stop himself from shouting.

 “The fuck did you expect when you left him tied up for hours?!”

 “Excuse me?” Their captor’s voice is dangerously low, and Yuri feels his heart sink as he turns away from Viktor’s corner, and marches over to Yuri’s.

 “You heard what I said.” Yuri says clearly, before muttering a few Russian curses under his breath.

 “What was that?” The man’s face twists into a scowl, and he places his hands on his knees, squatting down to meet Yuri’s eyes.

 Yuri swallows, but keeps his gaze steady as he responds. “...Nothing.”

 “Oh, it was something alright. Care to tell me what it is?”

 Yuri finally turns his face, staring at the wall instead of the man looming over him, and muttering his response.

  _“Nyet.”_

 The man takes a deep breath and strolls back to the center of the room, where he can easily look at them both.

 “Alright then. Alright. It looks like we need to establish some rules, since neither of you _pets_ know how to behave.”

 He taps his cane of the ground and leans on it, glancing from Viktor to Yuri.

 “For starters.” He begins. “I don’t want to hear anything that isn’t English or Japanese. You’re in my house now, and I won’t have you plotting behind my back.”

  _“Tch.”_ Yuri mumbles, eliciting a hard stare.

 “Second thing to remember: You’re mine now. Not yours, not your coaches’ not your...fiance’s,” He gives Viktor a pointed look before continuing, “ _Mine_. Is that clear?”

 Yuri tries to catch Viktor’s eye, but he’s wearing that submissive look again, tilting his chin and gazing at the floor. _Disgusting._

 “Anything you did before you came here, you can forget about. Anything you plan on doing after leaving here...isn't going to happen. Anyone you knew...you can forget about.” He paces back and forth as he says this, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lip.

 “Why the hell are we here?” Yuri growls, unable to hold his tongue while this man spews nonsense at them.

 “Rule number…” He counts on his fingers. “...Three. No asking stupid questions, especially not without addressing me properly. You’re here because I adopted you. End of story.”

 “That doesn’t answer-” Yuri begins.

 “Quiet.” The man thwacks his cane on the ground, sending a clear message. “I know they call you ‘The Russian Punk’ and ‘The Ice Tiger’” He says with the aid of finger quotes, “But trust me, little Kitten, even tigers can be domesticated.”

 “Why you…”

 “Enough!” The man kicks Yuri’s cage, steadying himself with the cane after delivering the blow.

 “Viktor, can you believe this?” Yuri demands in Russian. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, and while Yuri would never admit it out loud, Viktor’s subservience is disturbing him. He’s been taking their captor’s bullshit without so much as a whisper of protest this whole time.

 “Speak English.” Their captor snaps. “Or don’t speak at all.”

 “So many rules…” Yuri mutters, before getting an idea. He fervently tries catching Viktor’s eye, calling to him once more.

 “Hey. Hey, _Vitya._ ”

 Viktor finally looks up with suspicion, before realizing what Yuri is doing.

 ‘No’ He mouths, shaking his head desperately, but it's too late.

 “Vitya, huh?” Their captor repeats. “That’s what you call him?”

  _No. Not until now anyways_. Yuri thinks, but he doesn’t reply as the man kneels down before Viktor’s cage, wrinkling his nose at the puddle inside. “It’s a little close to your old name, but...I think it’ll do. What do you say, Vitya?” He asks with a sly grin.

 Viktor keeps his head down, shrugging his shoulders in response.

 “You don’t mind it? Not even coming from me? Well okay then. Vitya it is.”

 Yuri’s mouth curls in disgust. He’d just meant that as a test- he wanted to see how much Russian he could get away with in front of the man. He didn’t mean for this sicko to actually start using Viktor’s diminutive. He had no right to. None at all.

 “Fuck, you can’t just-” Yuri starts, but he’s once again interrupted by their captor.

 “We’ll have to do something about that mouth of yours if you keep that up, Kitten. You really don’t know when to bite your tongue, do you?”

  _Oh shit._ Yuri silently recoils as the word passes the man’s lips. _Kitten? That’s my new name? Fucking hell._

 Their captor turns to Viktor again. “You may not be house trained, Vitya, but at least you know how to respect your master. This kitty, on the other hand...might need a little more guidance.”

 The man looks like he’s about to say something else, but at that moment, the doorbell rings. He leaves, shutting and locking the door behind him, despite the fact that there’s no way Viktor or Yuri could possibly reach it.

 As soon as the lock clicks, they turn to each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air between them.

 “We'll get out of this, Yuri. I promise.” Viktor tries to reassure him, but Yuri just frowns.

 “You aren't very good at keeping promises.”


	6. Chapter 6

Viktor lowers his gaze as soon as the door opens. The man seems pleased when he does this, and as much as he despises him, Viktor knows he desperately needs to win his favor. He glances up without moving his head, just enough to see that their captor enter with a box under his arm. He stoops to place it on the floor before leaving again, locking the door, returning with a second one.

 “These came just in time.” He grins, pulling a pair of scissors out of his pocket and cutting the tape from the first package. He pulls out tissue paper and a packing slip before holding up a clear plastic bag.

 Inside it is a collar.

 Shiny, black, and clearly not the best quality, it comes with two attached handcuffs fastened to the collar by short chains. Their captor tears open the bag and untangles them, inspecting the his order with a careful eye. Satisfied with the product, he reaches into the box once more and extracts another collar, identical to the first. He places these both on the floor and starts on the next box.

 Inside the larger one there are more chains- legcuffs this time. These looks sturdier, and about twice as intimidating. Unlikes the collars, they’re probably meant for professional use, not bedroom activities.

 "Tell me, pets, do you want out?" The man cocks his head to the side and smiles, still holding the legcuffs. His grin is saccharine, and his voice patronizing, but Viktor's eyes still widen at the question. _Of course I do._

 "Yes, please" He answers without hesitation, finally looking up at the man above him. “Master.” He adds quickly.

 "...Alright, Vitya, you can come out. I think you've proven yourself capable of behaving. Good boy." He turns to Yuri, clearly awaiting his response.

 "Doesn't the kitty want some time outside the cage? Or are you going to pass?"

 Viktor finally looks over, watching a deep scowl form on Yuri’s face. He silently hopes that he won't say or do anything stupid right now- Viktor feels a sort of responsibility for the teen, seeing as he's the only adult here who isn’t a complete lunatic. While he knows he can’t control Yuri’s behavior, he’d still feel guilty if he got hurt.

 "I...I do need to piss." Yuri finally admits after several seconds of silence. “So you’ll have to take me out.” He refuses to make eye contact.

 "Oh dear." The man shakes his head. "That's not how we ask for things. I'll give you one more chance. I understand that not _everyone_ is a quick learner."

 Yuri inhales deeply, swallowing in discomfort. He answers again, voice smaller, and quieter than usual.

 "Please let me out of the cage, Master."

 "...Alright. You can come out after Viktor. We have to go one at a time, you know."

 Yuri nods meekly, watching as their captor pulls a keyring out of his pocket and reaches for the side hatch on Viktor's cage.

 "Legs." He orders.

 Viktor manages to get his feet through the small opening, cracking several of his joints and staining more of his clothes with urine in the process. The cuffs are then snapped onto his ankles, holding his feet about a foot apart.

 "Neck." He orders again, holding out the collar. Viktor can't fit his whole head through the hatch, but he turns so the man can tighten it around his neck, gritting his teeth as he fastens it into place. However compliant he appears, Viktor is absolutely _seething_ beneath the surface. How dare this man take him from his career, his fiance, his dog, his _life_ ? Doesn’t he know that Viktor has better things to do than sit in his basement and take orders? There didn’t even seem to be a proper _reason_ for it either, besides some sort of fucked up power trip.

As his mind races, Viktor makes a conscious effort to calm himself, trying to slow his breathing and his thoughts so he can focus on his goal- getting out of this alive.

 "Now for your hands.”

 Viktor's wrists are still bound with rope, but his captor easily reaches in and unties them, fastening the cuffs on his collar to his wrists. Finally, the man attaches the leash, keeping a firm hold on the end of it while he opens the main door of the cage. Viktor moves to exit it almost immediately, trying to crawl without using his hands for support.

 "Wait." Their captor holds up a finger. Viktor stops in his tracks.

 "You have to promise me you won't make any attempt to escape, got that?"

 Viktor pauses for a second, then nods, eyes widening in anticipation.

 "It won't end well for you if you do. I may look like a cripple, but I won't miss a trick, so don't try slipping anything past me."

 Viktor nods again, crawling out of the cage as the leash is tugged. He tries to stand as soon as he's fully out, but is stopped but a curt "No," from their captor.

 "On your knees at all times. That’s rule number four."

 "Al..alright then." Viktor mumbles, lowering himself back down to the wooden floor.

 "We are going to the bathroom, and we are coming right back. Understood?"

 Viktor nods, and the man starts towards the door on one side of the room- not the main one he entered from, but a side door. As soon as he opens it, Viktor can see that it leads to an en suite bathroom. _Convenient._ His heart sinks a bit when he realizes he won’t be let into the main part of the house, where he might actually have a chance of escape, but at least he’s out of the dog cage.

 As Viktor crawls (awkwardly, on his elbows and knees) from the main room to the bath, he tries to figure out how strong the restraints are. He knows he doesn't stand a chance against the leg cuffs, but the collar doesn't seem nearly as durable. It isn't time to plan an escape now, though. Not yet, anyways. This man may be hindered by his leg, but Viktor isn't risking another dose of whatever-it-was that he had in the needle, not when he has no use of his hands and can hardly move his feet.

 The man leaves the bathroom door open, so Viktor can see that Yuri is staring at them, his expression a mixture of concern and anticipation. Viktor looks back and gives what he hopes is a supportive smile. As awful as Viktor feels about Yuri being captured (in part, because of him) he can’t deny that having a companion makes this situation considerably more bearable.

 "Ok, then." The man starts, glancing at the bathtub. "How would you like it if uncuffed one of your hands?"

 Viktor is silent for a minute, unsure of how to respond. _Is this a test?_

 "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

 "...Yes." Viktor replies. I'd like that very much."

 "Okay then. Ask me nicely."

 "Please remove the cuff Master. I'd really appreciate it."

 "Good boy." He smiles, pulling out the key and unlocking Viktor's left hand. "Undress."

 It was bizarre, being given such a blunt command to disrobe. Normally, people were telling Viktor to put his clothes back _on_ , not the other way around. Still, he complied. He had nothing to hide from Yuri, and this man, like most of Hasetsu’s residents, had probably seen him naked at least once already.

 Viktor manages to tug down the waistband of his pants, and wriggle out of soaked underwear. Removing his shirt, however, proves more difficult.

 "Need help?" Their captor asks, crooking an eyebrow.

 Viktor nods, then remembers how he's supposed to ask.

 "Please help me out of my shirt Master."

 "Of course." The man smiles, and pulls Viktor’s right arm out of the sleeve, quickly cuffing it again. He does the same with his left, then lifts Viktor’s shirt up and over his head, leaving him totally naked on the tile floor.

 Kicking the pile of clothes into the corner by the sink, the man tugs Viktor by his collar, guiding him towards the tub and grabbing the shower hose.

 Viktor can't help but flinch slightly as the first jet of water hits him- it's _cold._ Viktor's gone swimming in worse temperatures however, so he knows he can't complain. Really, he's just glad he isn't sitting in piss anymore.

 As soon as his body adjusts to the temperature, he glances around, making eye contact with Yuri from across the room. He's staring again, rolling equal parts shock, disgust, and anger into one foul look. _Probably dreading being next_ Viktor figures, fully aware of Yuri’s revulsion for bathing in front of strangers.

 Viktor's shower is quick, and he doesn't complain about this. He eyes the shampoo sitting on the edge of the tub wistfully, but says nothing, not wanting to test their captor’s patience. As much as Viktor loves keeping his hair shiny and smooth, he loves the idea of not being maimed and/or murdered even more.

 As soon as Viktor is out of the tub, a fluffy white towel is flung in his direction. He eyes it, unsure of what to do. He has no way of drying himself without his hands.

 "Do you want me to dry you off?" Their captor looks at him with an expectant grin, and Viktor turns his cheek away. He doesn't want to depend on this man any more than necessary, but he doesn’t think refusing the offer will benefit him in any way. So, he puts on the small, docil voice he used before and makes his request:

 "Please dry me off, Master"

 “You’re so good at this, aren’t you, Vitya?" The man comments, rubbing the fluffy towel through Viktor’s hair and down his back. He finishes drying Viktor off and wraps a fresh towel around his waist before leading him back to his cage.

 "You may be clean, but your cage is still a mess, isn't it?" He asks, tugging the leash so Viktor is forced to look at the soiled tray.

 The faint blush that tinges Viktor’s cheeks is his only response, and he keeps his eyes glued to the floor.

  _"Isn't it?"_ The man repeats, giving the leash a harsh pull.

 "Y-yes."

 “And who has to clean it up?”

 "I...I do?" Viktor asks, hesitantly looking up.

  _"No,_ pet!” The man exclaims, delivering a harsh kick. Viktor yelps as the man’s foot collides with his ribs. Evidently he’d given the wrong answer.

 “I’d have to untie you for that, and I won’t have you trying to escape me so soon. I’m not stupid, _Vitya._ My job is to clean your cage. _Your_ job is to keep it from getting dirty in the first place. Understood?”

 Viktor nods obediently.

 “Now, what do you have to say for yourself, pet?”

 “I…” Viktor begins, keeping his gaze on the floor. “I’m sorry…?”

 “I’m sorry I made a mess.” Their captor suggests.

 “I’m sorry I made a mess.” Viktor repeats.

 “And I won’t happen again.”

 “And it won’t happen again.”

 The man removes the tray, and Viktor can hear the loud trickle of urine draining into the sink as it’s emptied. After wiping it down and replacing it in the cage, Viktor is allowed back in, and his leash is removed.

 He may be tied up and mostly naked, but Viktor _is_ feeling slightly better than before. He tries to focus on the fact that he’s clean, and dry, and still in once piece, if only to distract from the hunger gnawing at his insides.

 "You're turn, Kitten." The man says, once Viktor’s cage is locked up securely. He goes through the same motions as before, asking for Yuri’s hands, feet, and neck. Viktor is glad that Yuri doesn’t protest, though he glares at the man the entire time.

 "Now, now." Their captor chides, seeing Yuri's expression. "There's no need for that. You should be grateful that I'm taking you out at _all_.

 “I didn’t say anything.” Yuri replies petulantly.

 “Good. Pets don’t speak unless spoken to.”

 Viktor swears he can see the steam coming from Yuri’s ears.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains vomit. If you don't want to read about that, stop about 2/3 of the way through, or skip it.
> 
> Thank you!

Yuri struggles to balance on his elbows and knees as he’s tugged towards the bathroom, a constant stream of curses flowing through his mind. He somehow manages to hold his tongue and focus on what’s important, though: _How to get out of here._

He knows the man has a keyring in his pocket- on it is the key to the cages, the key to the main door, and a couple of others. He doesn't have use of his hands however, and he knows the leg cuffs would prevent him from bolting even _if_ he made it to the door.

When they reach the bathroom, Yuri stops crawling and sits on the tile. Green eyes dart up to their captor, dreading the humiliation he knows is imminent.

"Alright." The man says, looking down at Yuri. "Ask me nicely, just like Vitya did."

Yuri swallows, lowering his gaze.

"May I...may I please use the toilet?" It comes out half whisper and half grunt, but _whatever_ , at least he said it.

The man just shakes his head, giving Yuri a hard stare.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Yuri mutters the last word with a roll of his eyes. "Master."

"Oh, Kitten, when will you learn?" He gives his head another shake, clearly amused by Yuri's predicament.

_Bastard_. The insult is on the tip of Yuri’s tongue, but he remains quiet for another full minute. He’s glad that the positioning of Viktor’s cage prevents him from being able to see into the bathroom. The last thing he needs is another set of eyes watching as he’s degraded.

"Fine then. You must not have to go that badly." He gives the leash an impatient tug. "Come on, we're going back to-"

_"Wait."_

Slowly, their captor turns around, cocking an eyebrow at Yur's interjection.

"Yes...?"

"Please let me use the toilet, Master. _Please._ " Yuri tilts his chin up to look the man in the eye, wriggling his hips earnestly. It's pathetic, and humiliating, and _exactly_ what his captor wants.

" _That’s it._ You seem to be getting the hang of this, so I'll let you go.”

Yuri watches the man extract the keyring from his pocket and unlock the cuff on his left hand, taking note of which one he uses. It’s the smallest. Yuri hesitantly rises to his feet and turns around, acutely aware of the eyes boring into his back as he reaches for his zipper. Still, he knows he should be glad he's getting a toilet at all, considering what happened with Viktor.

He’s grateful that he doesn't have to make eye contact with anyone as he relieves himself, and for a minute, if he doesn’t think about the pleather collar around his neck, or the hand that’s still suspended from it, Yuri can almost pretend he’s alone in the bathroom. _Almost._ He still flushes bright red when he hears how loudly he’s pissing, knowing that their captor, and possibly Viktor, can hear as well.

He zips up his jeans, but before he can button them, the man tugs the leash, effectively getting Yuri's attention.

"Just take them off.” He orders. “You're getting a bath anyways."

"...Fine." Yuri mumbles, but he pauses. _It’s now or never._ He picks now. Without warning, he turns on his heel and lunges forward, sinking his free hand into the man’s pocket. Yuri can barely grasp the keys before he’s shoved to the ground, pain searing through his head as it smacks the edge of the tub. A second later, the man’s cane strikes Yuri’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Yuri gasps, or tries to, and instinctively curls his legs around his chest, cradling his head with his free hand. The blows don’t stop, beating down on him one after another like a hailstorm.

_Get up._ Yuri thinks to himself, though he's wincing and panting. _Get up, get out, run away!_

He starts to rise, but slips on the tile- it’s still wet from Viktor’s bath. Ignoring the cane, he makes a dash for the door, but soon realizes his mistake.

He's forgotten about the legcuffs.

Yuri trips almost instantly. The man grabs his wrist, but this doesn’t stop him from falling and smashing his nose against the floor. Lifting his head with a grunt, Yuri sees red droplets staining the tile. _Shit._ Before he can attempt to stand again, he feels a weight pressing into his shoulders, keeping him pinned to the floor. The man is on top of him, hands on his back, knees against his legs. Yuri is vaguely aware of Viktor shouting from the other room, begging him not to hurt him and going on about how Yuri is just a kid. Yuri can’t help but appreciate the effort, even though he knows it’s useless.

_This should be easy._ He thinks, writhing underneath him and trying to kick.. _I shouldn't be losing a fight to someone who can barely fucking walk!_

He thinks he might have another chance when the man’s hold on him relaxes, but he only has time to contemplate this for a minute before there’s a sharp stinging in his neck, and the sudden onset of dizziness. He knows exactly what it is, but tries to fight it nonetheless, squirming on the floor until he goes limp.

When Yuri wakes, he's back in his cage. His hands are behind his neck once more, but instead of rope, the collar and cuffs are on backwards. The legcuffs are still on as well, although his leash has been removed. Now it’s hanging from a hook on the wall alongside Viktor’s.

He blinks and looks around, seeing that Viktor is still in his cage. He's fast asleep and his face looks eerily calm, considering the circumstances. His towel has loosened slightly, and his hair is mostly dry, suggesting that several hours have passed, and it’s already night.

_I wonder what he’s dreaming about._ Yuri thinks. _I hope it’s a good one. Something involving Katsudon. Or Makkachin._

Yuri's speculation about Viktor’s dreams is cut off when he realizes how much he's hurting- he doesn't need to look under his clothes (Which he's still fortunately wearing) to know he's bruising all over. It's not like he isn't used to it- bruises, cuts, and abrasions are all bound to happen when one spends his days throwing himself at the ice, but this is different. This isn’t a result of Yuri working himself to exhaustion on the rink, striving for perfection time and time again. This isn’t the price he’s paying to win gold, to make his country proud. Someone did this to him. Someone hurt him. Someone caught him, caged him, and beat him out of sheer _malice_ and nothing else _._

Yuri clenches his jaw, breathing heavily. He’s shaking uncontrollably, struggling against the cuffs even though he knows it’s futile. The dusty room blurs as his eyes well up and his throat tightens, much to his chagrin. The full weight of the situation has finally hit him. _Hard._

In a desperate attempt to console himself before he wakes Viktor, Yuri thinks about his accomplishments, his medals, the countless hour spent jumping and twirling on the ice, all the times he’s traveled to competitions, skated his heart out and _won_. He knows he’s had more success in his short life than most will have in a lifetime, but none of that makes the thought of dying in a cage at age sixteen any more appealing.

The tears finally spill, rolling down his cheeks and into his mouth. This reminds him of how long he’s been without water, and he blinks rapidly, knowing how pathetic it is to be wasting fluids when he’s clearly dehydrated.

The thought that he really could die here if he’s denied water for long enough sends him into a panic, and he's hyperventilating a moment later, thrashing around in his cage. It must be the sound of the bars being kicked, or the strained, guttural noises that awaken Viktor, because a minute later he's opened his eyes and turned to Yuri’s cage, mumbling quietly in Russian.

“Calm down, Yuri. calm down.”

"V-viktor." It comes out as a pitiful croak, but Viktor doesn't comment, continuing to sooth Yuri instead.

"It's alright, it's alright. Getting worked up won't do you any good. Everything is fine."

"It's not fine!" Yuri chokes, cringing at the way his voice comes out.

"Shhh, Yuri. I’m glad you’re awake, and you’re okay."

The comforting continues, and eventually Yuri gives a quiet nod in response to Viktor’s reassurance, wishing he could wipe his face. He can't see how he looks but he knows it isn't pretty- His tearstained cheeks are flushed, his hair is a mess, and his lip is still quivering slightly. _Pathetic._

"You were brave, trying to get away today."

Yuri merely shrugs, thinking of how miserably he failed at escaping.

“I don’t think it’s the right time to try and leave now, though. We have to wait until that man has his guard down, so he won’t expect it.”

"...Yeah." Yuri agrees, relieved to find that his voice has more or less gone back to normal. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he’s glad that Viktor is here to talk with him. Otherwise, he’s sure he’d be going insane.

"Just rest up, and we'll see what happens in the morning, okay?"

"Is it night?"

"I think so. That man hasn't...he hasn't come in and spoken to me in a while. I think he's sleeping."

Yuri nods, leaning back against his cage and shutting his eyes. Sleep doesn't come easily, but when it does, his dreams are surprisingly pleasant. He's in Moscow, on skates, gliding down empty, ice covered, streets. It’s dark and there's snow falling around him, but Yuri isn't cold. There are no lights from behind the windows because everyone is sleeping now, everyone except him. As he slides down the ice, he inhales and exhales steadily, happy to be free.

Yuri misses the ice as soon as he wakes up, faced with cold, cruel, reality once more.

"Good morning, Yuri." Viktor says.

Yuri gives an affirmative grunt, though he doesn't verbally return the greeting. There's nothing "good" about anything that’s transpired lately, and he isn't even sure if it _is_ morning. He and Viktor converse in hushed tones, describing their dreams since there isn’t much else to talk about. Yuri was right earlier- Yuuri _was_ in Viktor’s dream, along with Makkachin. They exchange words in English, just in case the man is awake.

Some amount of time later- twenty minutes, an hour, Yuri isn’t sure- their captor returns. Both fall silent simultaneously, seeing that he’s carrying two dog bowls and two cans. They watch as he fills the bowls with water from the sink, placing them in their cages through the side hatch.

Yuri immediately lowers his head to drink, relieved that he _isn't_ going to die of thirst, but a loud command stops him before his tongue touches the water.

He looks up in confusion, gritting his teeth. _What the hell?_

"I gave you a nice, full, bowl of water- what do you say?”

"...Thank you Master." Yuri mumbles. Viktor does the same.

"Good boy. We really need to get you into the habit of showing some gratitude, don't we?"

Yuri grimaces at this, taking a hesitant sip. The man doesn't stop him this time, so he laps it up greedily, finishing half the bowl before he hears a creaking noise. He looks up to see the man tearing the lid off one of the cans.

"I have breakfast, too." He announces, unlocking the hatch of Viktor's cage.

Yuri can't read Japanese, but the canine on the packaging let's him know exactly who this food is meant for. As much as Yuri knows he needs sustenance, the mild, aching, nausea caused by prolonged hunger isn’t improved by the thought of ingesting dog food. He watches with disgust as the man holds the can out to Viktor, wondering how he’s going to stomach the revolting mush.

"Eat."

Viktor hesitantly tilts his head forward, licking the food from the can. His face twists up slightly as he struggles to swallow, but he keeps eating, licking at the metal even after the container is empty. Their captor pulls his hand away and Viktor whimpers, clearly wanting more, but the man has already moved onto Yuri.

Yuri can barely choke the soggy substance down, but he does his best, knowing that he needs to keep his strength up if he's to have any chance of escape. He gags at the smell, and the taste, and lumpy texture, but manages to polish off the can of food, feeling his stomach give a grumble of protest as soon as he's done.

Next, he takes them out to use the toilet, one at a time, as before. Viktor is allowed to have his left hand uncuffed for this, but Yuri has to beg their captor to take down his pants so he can sit, having no usage of his arms whatsoever. He's silently glad that Viktor can't see him, due to the position of his cage, though the knows that he can hear.

He's half dragged back to his cage, feeling his stomach churn uncomfortably with every tug of the leash. He’d focused on trying to keep his “breakfast” down as much as he could on the way to the bathroom, but now his body isn’t cooperating. A mere second after he’s locked back up, he gives a pained retch, feeling bile stinging the back of his throat and spilling out his mouth a moment later. The dog food looks no different coming back up than it did going down, and Yuri is tempted to laugh at this, in spite of himself.

"Spitting up your food right after eating it?" The man wrinkles his nose. "You're not a very grateful pet, are you?"

Yuri doesn’t meet his eye, casting his gaze downward to inspect the damage instead. His tiger shirt took the brunt of his nausea, but his pants and the floor received a splattering as well.

When Yuri looks up, his face is burning with shame. He wants a bath. He didn’t get one earlier, and now he needs one more than ever. He doesn’t care if he has to beg to get it, or if he has to wear a towel after, he just doesn’t want to be _soaked in puke_ for a single second longer.

"Please Master, can I have a bath now?"

He chuckles, widening his eyes in mock surprise. "So the kitty finally wants a _bath_? After running away from one yesterday?”

Yuri nods fervently, eyes pleading.

“I have to go to work now. Maybe when I get back."

“No, please, I really _really_ , need a bath, can’t you see I-”

“Quiet. I might have let you if you hadn’t misbehaved last time, but you did, so you’ll have to have a little _patience._ ”

“But  I…! _Wait_ please-”

Their captor ends the conversation with a firm shut of the door, and Yuri doesn't miss the sound of the key turning as he locks them in for the rest of the day.

"Viktor..." Yuri turns to face the opposite cage, noticeably spreading the mess as he does so. _Disgusting._ He thinks with a shudder. He knows there's nothing that Viktor can do, so he isn't even sure what he's whining his name for.

Viktor gives him a look of pity, and speaks to him in the same voice he used before, when Yuri freaked out in the middle of the night. It's different from the tone he uses when he wants to please their captor- this one is soft, genuine, and actually rather comforting.

"What'll we do?" Yuri sniffs, swallowing a mouthful of water from his bowl to get the foul taste out of his mouth.

Viktor presses a finger to his lip, thinking for a minute. "We'll find a way out."

_"How?"_

"He's bound to screw up sometime. He'll leave a cage open, or forget to lock the door or...something. We just have to keep observing, and plan our moves carefully."

Yuri nods, then gets an idea.

“Viktor, do you know how to pick locks?”

 


	8. Chapter 8

Viktor gives Yuri a questioning look. It doesn’t sound like something that would work in real life, and Viktor hopes that Yuri didn’t get the idea from a movie or something.

 “No. How would we do that here?”

 “I know how to pick locks. Milla showed me a while ago.” Yuri smiles fondly at the memory.

 “What were you two picking locks for?!”

 “That's...not important right now. I just want to see if you can get your hands free. The handcuffs don't seem too strong, so you could probably break them. Then you can use the wire from the chains on the locks of our cages, and then maybe on the door!” Yuri smiles as he explains, like it's the most genius plan anyone's ever thought of.

 Viktor isn't convinced it is. The risk of being caught outweighs the possible reward of escape, and Viktor doesn't hesitate in saying this. Still, Yuri refuses to let the subject drop.

 "Seriously Viktor, it isn't that hard. I've _done it_ before."

 "I haven't."

 "You can learn. It only took me a little while to get the hang of it."

 "No, Yuri. If he comes back and sees any evidence of us trying to escape, who knows what he'll do? Yuri, that man has the power to _kill us_ if we go against his will. That's not a risk I'm willing to take."

 "He could kill us regardless of what we do. I think staying here is riskier."

 Viktor exhales in exasperation.

 " _Please,_ just try it." Yuri finally whines, seeing that he won't be able to win Viktor over with logic. "My hands feel like they're about to fall off, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm _still_ covered in puke."

 Viktor feels bad for Yuri, he really does. Though his situation is far from pleasant, he knows that Yuri is facing significantly more discomfort. As foolish as it seems to take the advice of a sixteen year old boy in a life threatening situation, Viktor wants to cling to the glimmering sliver of hope that if all goes well, they _might_ just be able to escape. Playing it safe and waiting to be rescued may seem like a better option, but what’s the likelihood that they’ll actually be found? In time for them to seamlessly resume their careers no less? For all Viktor knows, they could be stuck here forever, waiting for help that would never arrive.

 Viktor isn't getting any younger. He can't delay training for his next, and likely last, season on the ice for a few months, let alone forever. As he thinks this over, Yuri's suggestion starts seemingly like an increasingly plausible idea.

 "...You're sure you know how to pick locks?" Viktor finally asks, slowly turning to face him.

 “Of course!” Yuri beams.

* * *

 

This had been a bad idea.

 It had started out fine- the chains connecting his wrists to his neck hadn’t been too hard to break, and soon Viktor's hands were free. The cuffs were still clamped around his wrists, but that didn’t matter. The important thing was that Viktor could reach the lock on the exterior of the cage. Unfortunately, whole thing went downhill when it came to actually opening it. As it turned out, there were no particular steps to lock picking at all, despite what Yuri had implied earlier.

 "There are pins in the lock, and you have to push them down to get it open." Yuri instructs, watching as Viktor jams the wire into the keyhole.

 "Is there any, um...is there any _strategy_ to it?" Viktor tries unsuccessfully to stay calm as he maneuvers the bent link through the bars.

 "Nope. You just need to twist it around until it gets all the pins down."

 "And how do I know when it does that?"

 "When it opens."

 Viktor gives another sharp exhale as he continues working, feeling his anxiety spike. They've crossed the point of no return, and he doesn’t even want to think about what’s going to happen if their captor walks in and see the broken handcuffs lying on the floor of his cage, along with the collar he's slipped out of and cast aside.Trying to think about the situation at hand rather than dwelling on his fears, he continues prodding the lock for the next several minutes.

 "This was not a good a idea." Viktor finally states when he’s certain that at least an hour has passed. "Why did I go along with this again...?"

 "Because you wanted to escape!" Yuri answers. "You know I would have done it if I wasn't...you know." Yuri turns his head to glance at his restraints from over his shoulder.

 "Yes, I know you would have." Viktor nods. "And you might have actually been successful."

 "Well don't give up yet!" 

"I'm not I just...Yuri, I think I might have broken it." Viktor says, glancing at the lock with despair.

 "No, no, no, just keep on trying! Don't give up, Viktor, I-I want to get out of here. I want to get out of here so badly I just-"

 "I know. I am trying."

 "You know, maybe I should try breaking my cuffs too-"

 "No!" Viktor interjects, shaking his head back and forth. "No, we can blame this all on me when he comes back. You don't want to risk him being mad at you too."

 "But I've actually picked locks before, and-"

 "Yuri, your hands are behind your back. You could seriously injure yourself if you try getting out of the chains. I've read up on this, and there's a certain way to restrain people, _safely_. I highly doubt that man did it properly.

 "Wait, why were you reading up on- oh." Yuri suddenly freezes and shuts his eyes, shaking his head rapidly. "Oh that's just disgusting. Seriously Viktor? I did not need to know you and Katsudon were doing _that_."

 "I wasn't giving you details, Yuri, I was just explaining why you'd hurt your arms if you moved them around too much. And anyways..." Viktor trails off when he hears a click, squinting at the lock through the bars of his cage. "Is it...I think it's..."

 "It's open!" Yuri exclaimed, forgetting about his previous disgust. "Fuck, yes. Now get out and unlock mine!"

 What little luck Viktor had with the first cage has evidently run out, because he can’t get Yuri's open, despite having easier access to the lock from the outside. Trying to ignore the reek of drying vomit, Vikor focuses on opening the door, though he’s still unable to find any sort of trick to it. He wishes he’d been paying more attention the first time, so he could repeat what did before.

 He isn't sure how many hours have passed at this point, but the sliver of light coming from the crack in the boarded window seems to be dimming. He's almost finished his bowl of water as well, going back to it every now and then as he works on Yuri's cage, until he finally realizes he doesn't need it anymore- he can go to the sink in the attached bathroom, and drink from the faucet with cupped hands. The leg cuffs still get in the way a bit, but having the freedom to stand up and walk around brings a ridiculous grin to Viktor's face, one he hardly notices until he looks up and sees it in the mirror. He feels a pang of guilt upon remembering that Yuri is bound and caged in the other room, and promptly returns to working on the lock.

A couple of hours pass, and Yuri's mood has fouled once more, This doesn't do wonders for Viktor's exasperation, which has returned despite the semblance of freedom he's gained.

"Is it almost open?" Yuri asks. "I have to piss again."

"I'm trying, Yuri." Viktor replies, for the fourteenth time this afternoon. But trying wasn't enough. He had _to get Yuri out._

"Look, I- I don't know if I'll be able to get this one open, but maybe I could try the door? Then I can leave to get help, and a police officer or someone will come back for you."

 "You want to leave me here and send someone else to get me? When I look like this?" Yuri wrinkles his nose at his own vomit stained appearance. Worrying about such a thing right now  seems silly, even vain, but Viktor can read between the lines. The idea of being left to face their captor all on his own terrifies Yuri, and Viktor doesn't blame him for it. While they can't do much to protect each other from physical harm, he knows that without each other's company they'd be slowly, but surely going mad right now.

  _Or perhaps not so slowly..._ Viktor thinks, though he doesn't verbalize this train of thought, answering Yuri instead.

 "Yuri, the police have seen, and smelled, much worse I'm sure." He reassures, or at least tries to. "Let me see if the door will open."

 Viktor fiddles with the bit of wire and the keyhole, trying to keep his nerves at bay. He’s almost certain that their captor will be home soon, and wretchedly hopes that he can get the door open before then. Everytime he manages to relax and focus on the task at hand, his thoughts are interrupted but a piercing _"What if"_ and a surge of anxiety bubbling inside him.

 Viktor hears a click, and feels the door knob loosen, eyes lighting up for a second. His triumph is short lived however, when the heavy door swings open and slams into his forehead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I'm sorry for the wait! Bad Angel, bad!
> 
> I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner this time <3


	9. Chapter 9

Yuri can't help but steal glances at Viktor every now and then, wondering how he's holding up. Which is stupid, because there isn't anything to wonder. Yuri heard Viktor's ankle crack- he knows exactly the state he's in. He's never had the greatest social skills, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that Viktor probably isn't too happy with him right now. He isn’t one for remorse, but thinking of how he’d touted the lockpicking idea as the key to their salvation, oblivious to just how miserably his plan would fail, makes him feel ill.

Yuri finally turns his prying eyes away from the huddled lump in the opposite cage, directing them towards the cinder block and the tell tale splatter on the floor instead. He just hopes the vomiting was due to pain, and not a concussion.

He exhales slowly, a chill running down his spine and tickling each of his vertebrae. For a minute back then, Yuri had thought that Viktor might actually be able to escape. He'd put up a decent fight, and Yuri is sure that it would have been _more_ than decent, were it not for the leg cuffs that had, quite literally, tripped him up.

_"Stay there. Stay_ **_right there._ ** _You leave, and I'll kill him."_

And that.

Yuri swallows. He presses his knees closer to his chest as the gruesome scene replays itself for the tenth time, unable to stop their captor’s voice from seeping into his mind.

_"Oh, dear. And here I was thinking you were the cooperative one, Vitya."_

_"Hey! Get down, you can't run and you know it!"_

_"Look at what you did Vitya. Biting the hand that feeds you, huh? You're stupider than I thought."_

_“Step here, Vitya, into the block. Foot inside...that’s right.”_

_“Good boy. You really don’t want me to hurt the kitty, do you? That’s nice. Very nice. See how nice he is, Kitten?”_

Yuri opens his mouth to speak as when he's sure his voice won't tremble, but promptly shuts it. He knows he's never been good with words, and any attempt at “comfort” would likely result in pouring salt on Viktor’s wounds. But he has to say _something._ Anything, to break the crushing silence between them, to bridge the gap between the two captives.

“Viktor.” His voice is hoarse.

There’s no answer.

_“Viktor.”_

Viktor’s only response is the clinking of chains as he shifts in the cage, and a hiss through clenched teeth.

“I…” Yuri begins, only half meeting Viktor’s eyes. “I’m sorry...I thought. I thought-” He shakes his head. This isn’t going where he wants it to go. An apology, however heartfelt, changes nothing.

Viktor sits, unblinking, in the dim light, waiting for Yuri to finish.

“You can still coach you know.”

Viktor glances down at his ankle. Yuri’s half glad he can’t see it in the darkness, but he has a good idea of what it must look like, thanks to Coach Yakov- he’d shown him a series of skating related injuries when he was twelve, after his spontaneous attempt at a quad salchow. Yuri’s memory supplies all the necessary details- red abrasions above his heel, bruising blooming in purple and sickly yellow. A swelling around the bone where it’s split cleanly in two, Viktor’s foot lying limp as he struggles to keep the jagged pieces in place.

“Coach?” Viktor says it with a pitch in his voice, like it’s the name of some foreign dish. Then his tone returns to normal, and he finally speaks a full sentence. “Yes, I..yes I know I can coach…”

Yuri nods encouragingly. “Yeah, when we get out of here, you can-”

“We’re not getting out of here. Not on our own anyways.”

“Viktor?! What do you mean we’re not? How can you say that…?”

“Look what happened to me, Yuri. _Look._ ”

“I know, I know-”

“We’re not getting out of here.”

Yuri huffs, but he knows well enough to let subject drop, hoping that Viktor’s pessimism is just a temporary reaction to his injury.

_Which is my fault._

Yuri distracts himself from the guilt by picking at his nails. He chews his lip and runs his tongue over his unbrushed teeth. Yuri can't do much about the restraints, or the cage, or the heavy, locked door, or the unpleasant assortment of aches and pains, but there are still a few things he's in control of. He choose to breath from his nose or his mouth. He can open his eyes, or shut them. He can sit with his legs tucked under him, or pulled up against his chest.

_I wonder if that bastard would have gone through with it._ Yuri thinks. _Would he have risked a murder charge just because Viktor ran away?_

He doesn’t have much to time to contemplate this, because the door opens and Yuri jumps, hitting his head on the ceiling of the cage. Their captor is back, wearing fresh clothes and a unsettling grin. He's cleaned up the blood from when Viktor socked him in the nose, and switched his stained button down for a T-shirt and jeans. He's carrying something in his hands- Yuri can't read the packaging of course, but it looks like a bag of chips.

"It's about dinner time for you, huh?" He asks, rattling the bag. "Not everyone was able to stomach the pet food earlier, so I thought I'd try something else. He gives Yuri a pointed look. "You don't want to have dinner looking like that though, do you?"

Yuri shakes his head slowly, remembering with a degree of self consciousness, that his clothes are still caked in sick.

"Didn't think so. I trust you'll be good if I take you out, right?"

Yuri nods, widening his eyes and putting on his most yielding expression. He doesn’t know how convincing it is, but it must be halfway decent because his captor praises him almost immediately.

"Good kitty. I see you've learned your lesson. You don't want to end up like Vitya, do you?"

Yuri shakes his head.

“Although if, you, did, then we’d all match, wouldn’t we?!” He lets out an ugly, breathy snort and gestures to his bad leg.

They head to the attached bathroom, where Yuri gratefully sheds his soiled clothes. His bladder is full, but he’s done enough begging just to get _into_ the bathroom, and he isn’t about to do more just to use the toilet. The shower would have to do.

As as gross as it feels to strip in front of his captor so he can be bathed like a toddler, Yuri relishes the feeling of being free from restraints- until the blood rushes back to his numb hands, and they’re stinging again.

“You know what will happen if you try and run, don’t you kitten?”

“Yes, Master.” Yuri mutters, climbing into the tub and seating himself in the corner, legs pulled up to his chest.

“So don’t run.”

“No, Master.” Yuri blinks as arctic water splashes into his face. He’d planned on waiting until the man turned around so he could piss down the drain, but the rushing water doesn’t give him much choice. Were it not for the temperature, Yuri would have flushed pink.

“So _you’re_ not housebroken either?”

“There’s no rule against taking a piss, is there?” Yuri asks defiantly.”

“I don’t like that attitude, Kitten.” The man reaches out to strike Yuri’s face, but he’s already numb from the cold, so it barely stings. “You aren’t to take a piss here, or anywhere else, without my permission.”

Yuri manages a nod.

“Answer me!” Another slap.

“Yes, Master.”

He finishes up Yuri’s shower, and wastes no time getting him back in the restraints. His hands are cuffed in front of him this time, much to Yuri’s relief, and after being dried off and wrapped in a towel, Yuri is lead back to his cage, still shivering faintly. He’s never had the same tolerance for cold as Viktor.

“Want to help me clean this, Kitten?” The man asks, stopping next to the pool of vomit. “I know it’s Vitya’s mess, but he doesn’t really look up to leaving his cage right now.”

Yuri scowls, glancing over at Viktor to gauge his reaction. There is none. Viktor has turned to face the wall, curled in on himself like a crushed bird. He responds to the man’s jab with neither indignance nor grief, and Yuri hopes he’s staying silent to deny their captor the satisfaction of an answer, not because he’s shut down completely.

The man waits patiently for a response and turns back to Yuri when he realizes he isn’t getting one.

“Will you help clean this?”

Yuri wrinkles his nose in disgust, but nods anyways, eager to have his hands free. The man gets another towel from the bathroom and wets one half, giving it to Yuri after uncuffing his right hand. He supervises the cleaning, making sure that the floor is spotless and fully dried, and gives Yuri a pat on the head once he’s done.

“See?” I knew you could be a good kitty.”

Yuri looks down at the floor, unwilling to meet his eye.

“You’re cage is messy too. Can you clean that as well?”

Yuri nods slowly, loathing the patronizing tone the man’s voice has taken on. He speaks to Yuri like he really is a pet, a dog performing tricks, or a tiger kept in the circus.

Yuri wipes down the tray of his cage, instinctively climbing in as soon as he’s finished. This doesn’t go unnoticed, and the man grins broadly.

“You’re really getting to know your place here, aren’t you?”  He croons, petting Yuri’s head through the open cage door. “I didn’t know you wanted to be so good for me. Today is just _full_ of surprises, isn’t it?”

He takes the dirty towel and the bundle of Yuri’s clothes away, and sits down on the cinderblock when he comes back. Tearing open the bag of chips, he pulls one out, and crunches it thoughtfully.

“I almost did this a year ago, you know. When I heard that Viktor Nikiforov had come to Hasetsu...that’s when I got the idea. And when Yuri Plisetsky, fresh out of juniors, followed along like a little puppy dog...I knew I had no choice.” He splits another chip in half with his teeth.

“What do you mean?!” Yuri spits.

The man holds up a finger. “Uh, uh. I’m talking. You’re listening. And as for you-” he turns to Viktor, who hasn’t moved an inch. “You need to face me when I speak to you. Now.”

Slowly, painfully, the crumpled ball of limbs readjusts itself in the cage, carefully as possible. Yuri can barely see Viktor’s face through his bangs, but he knows he’s biting his lip, trying not to cry out as he shifts his swollen ankle.

“Much better.” Their captor nods, before continuing his story.

“I knew that it was going to happen. I was going to adopt at least one of you. It was inevitable, really. I couldn’t quite decide who at first- the feisty, foul mouthed, brat? The medal hoarding, show stealing, champion? I even considered taking Japan’s ace, my old rinkmate, for my own, but that wouldn’t have worked. Everyone here would have noticed if _he_ went missing.”

For the first time since the ankle incident, a flicker of emotion flashes across Viktor’s face. His blue eyes widen, and he tilts his chin upwards.

_This is good._ Yuri thinks. _He won’t give up as long as he has Katsuki. He’ll be coming up with escape ideas soon enough, once he remembers how much that pig is missing him._

“I guess I’d better give you something to eat now.” He says, abruptly ending his story.

Yuri stares at the bag of chips as the man walks over to his cage. He can smell the salt, the oil, can practically taste it on his tongue. He’s been without sustenance for a couple of days now- the “breakfast” of dog food hadn’t stayed down long enough to count.

The first chip is slipped through the bars, and Yuri practically _whimpers._ It doesn’t matter that it’s mostly air and empty calories, the exact type of food that he’s not supposed to be eating. It’s the best thing that’s happened this entire day, and it’s gone all too soon. Yuri barely chews before swallowing, and he can feel the ridges poking his throat as it goes down. The hunger pains have returned with full force now that he has something in his stomach, and he swallows several times to keep from drooling. Another chip is pushed through the bars, and then another, and he chews them greedily, eyes pleading for more. A soft whine escapes Yuri’s throat as their captor leaves his cage, and walks over to Viktor. Viktor must be almost as hungry as he is, but he doesn’t eat with the same fervor. Instead he chews each chip slowly and mechanically, as if on autopilot. Their captor goes back to Yuri eventually, feeding him another ten or so, before doing the same with Viktor, and going to put the bag away.

Yuri steals another glance at Viktor once the door is shut and locked, but he’s gone back to staring at the wall, or maybe trying to sleep. Yuri settles back against the bars of his cage, though he isn’t tired in the slightest. He licks any lingering salt from his lips, and finishes the rest of the water in the his bowl. Leans back again. Jiggles his leg impatiently. Thinks of what he’d be doing if he was home. Glances at Viktor, silent and still as ever.

Waits.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to A-Puddle-of-Desperation for giving me ideas and reviewing this before publication! ILYSM!


	10. Chapter 10

Viktor stares at the wall with glassy, unblinking eyes. His heart rate, along with his breathing has slowed down, now that the adrenaline rush from earlier has fizzled out. He’s trying to hold still,  keeping his body and mind frozen in time. Viktor has only spoken once since his ankle snapped, a brief exchange with Yuri he’d barely mustered the energy for. He doesn’t understand how Yuri has it in him to keep fighting after all that’s happened. Sure, he’s in decent health, if you don’t count the prolonged hunger and mild dehydration, but listening to him talk about escaping, about plans for once they’re out...it’s like watching a hamster trying to outrun it’s wheel- pathetic, irritating, and far from what Viktor needs right now.  
  
Remaining silent and unmoving is the only way he can keep himself floating. The only way he can stay suspended in mid air, holding off the inevitable crash.

Viktor brings his hands up to his face, closing his eyes as if it will make all that’s happened melt away. There’s nothing he needs more right now than a hand on the back of his shoulder, and the hushed reassurance that things aren't as bad as they seem, but when Yuri can’t give him either of those, his mind conjures them itself. He can practically hear Yuuri’s soft voice, if he tries hard enough. The same can be said for the tactile sensation of Makkachin’s fur. It’s almost like Viktor’s brain has been storing up these memories in case of an emergency, and the time to use them has finally come. Deep breaths and comforting thoughts seem to slow his descent into despair, and Viktor wonders vaguely if he’ll be able to sleep tonight.

He shifts in the cramped space, and the slight movement is all it takes to set off his ankle. The mirage is shattered as soon as the pain hits, and Viktor bites his lip, trying not to agitate it further.

Without warning, Viktor goes from floating to free falling.

His fingers curl around silver locks and yank. All the thoughts he’s been trying to keep at bay flood his mind and spill over onto his nose and cheeks. Viktor doesn’t know which is worse- the pulsing and searing of his ruined ankle, or the crushing realization that he’s trapped here, indefinitely, with no idea when help will come, or if it will come at all. When pulling his hair out isn’t enough, Viktor bites his lip and draws blood- pain to distract from pain.

If Yuri has any reaction to the sudden cacophony of whimpers and gasps, Viktor doesn’t register it. He’s too busy trembling on the floor of the cage, sniveling into his hands. It’s another hour, or maybe two, before sleep takes pity on him, seizing hold and dragging him into dark, merciful, slumber.

He slides across the cool rink, taking Yuuri’s warm hand in his. The bleachers are empty and there’s no one observing them- or if there is, they’re doing it very, very quietly. Viktor sees that they're wearing the costumes from Yuuri’s exhibition skate- sparkly pink and dazzling blue. From his exhibition? Or for it? Has it happened yet? Or not? Viktor can’t tell if this is a memory or a premonition, but he stops fretting as soon as they lock eyes and begin their routine. Viktor and Yuuri skate in perfect harmony, without missteps or slips, right up until the spin. Viktor keeps his hand intertwined with Yuuri’s, watching him become a blur of black and blue. He goes around once, twice, and then the building is shaking, the ice is cracking under his feet, and Viktor feels the sudden loss as Yuuri’s fingers slip away. The ice, the roof, the walls, are all cracking like china, and Yuuri is somewhere under the sheets of metal and frost. Viktor wants to move, he _has_ to move, to get Yuuri, but he’s trapped as well, and there’s something jagged cutting into his leg, pressing deeper and deeper no matter which way he moves...

“Wake up you two!”

The man claps his hands and smiles, having successfully woken Viktor by kicking the bars of his cage. Viktor is still shaking, but at least the room isn’t. He swallows the lump in his throat (which may very well have been his pounding heart) and glances at Yuri. He’s stirring in the opposite corner, scowling with bleary, morning eyes. Viktor’s gaze darts around the room, and he reassures himself that _no_ , Yuuri isn’t here. He’s far away _(not that far,)_  somewhere safe _(assuming the man doesn’t want more pets_ ,) and he has nothing to worry about _(except for the fact that Viktor, the love of his life, has vanished without notice or reason.)_

Knowing that Yuuri is back home, ignorant _(but not blissfully ignorant)_ of Viktor’s predicament, is both a blessing and a curse. Viktor is grateful that Yuuri is safe with his family, not rotting in a cage alongside him, but he’s powerless to stop the near-constant ache for his affection. That, and he’s fully aware of how Yuuri gets when he’s nervous. Viktor can already see the scene in his mind: Yuuri is sitting in his room, jiggling his leg underneath his desk. His hair is disheveled, and around his eyes there’s blackness or redness or quite possibly both. Yuuri has gone over all the possibilities in his head, _(including this one?)_ and he alternates between telling himself that the worst isn’t true to agonizing over just how bad The Worst might be. Maybe he’s on the phone with Yakov, asking for the third time “ _Are you_ sure _he didn’t say anything to you, Mr. Feltsman?”_ To which Yakov would respond with a breathy snort and answer in the affirmative. He’d mutter something about _“Vitya’s whims,”_ or maybe, if they’ve moved on from hoping this is a “Vitya’s whims” situation, he’d give an earnest grunt and a firm _“I’ll see what I can do.”_

Or maybe Yuuri is speaking with his friend, Phichit, explaining the situation over Skype and a steaming mug of calming tea. _“I just don’t know where he went. He’s gone.”_ Yuuri shakes his head, and readjusts his glasses. _“I’m sure your fiance wouldn’t just leave without a reason, Yuuri.”_ Phichit tries to reassure, stroking his hamster’s chin thoughtfully. 

_“I know.”_ Yuuri mutters. _“That’s what I’m scared_ of.”

“Aren't you glad it's sunday?” Their captor’s jovial voice breaks the silence. “A nice day to rest up after a hard week, huh?” The man gives them that partial grin, partial grimace, and moves towards Viktor’s cage, taking a look at the nude body inside. Viktor has taken the towel from his waist and and wrapped it around his broken ankle, leaving the rest of his form completely exposed.

“Now, Vitya.” The man scolds. I know you're a pet, but that's not very decent.”

Viktor doesn't move. He can't.

“Would you mind covering up a _bit_?”

When there's no response, their captor clucks his tongue. “I'll be right back.”

Maybe he’s getting punished. Maybe the man is going to drag him out and break something else. Viktor doesn’t care.

When the man returns, he's carrying a bundle of clothing under his arm. He unlocks Viktor’s cage, and motions for him to crawl out. Slowly, Viktor props himself up, and hollow blue eyes meet sneering brown ones. He gets to his knees, the towel on his ankle steadily unraveling, and crawls, fully naked, towards his captor.

“Come on, good boy.”

Viktor sits on his knees, biting his lip as a slight pressure is put on his ankle. He gives a faint whimper as he tries to shift his weight, and the man reaches out to stroke his hair.

“There, there.”

Viktor freezes, unsure of how to respond to the touch. The man sits down on the cinderblock and dumps the clothing on the floor, looking at him with mock sympathy.

“It hurts, doesn't it Vitya?”

He nods.

“Yeah, that’s what we do with pets who try to escape.” He leans over and pats Viktor’s head again. “I hope you understand that I needed to take...precautions. Just to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Viktor swallows and narrows his eyes. For the first time since yesterday, he feels anger ripple through him, though it fades as quickly as it appears, giving way to another emotion: _Shame_. Or something of the sort. Viktor can’t tell if it stems from being fully nude and perched on his knees, or something more enigmatic, but it makes him cast his eyes downward, and bite his lip when he realizes there’s an apology on the tip of his tongue.

After a pause, their captor speaks once more.

“You’re due for some grooming, I think.”

Viktor lets the man half drag him from the cage to the bathroom, and lead him through the usual routine. He helps him into the bath and lifts his bad leg over the edge, despite Viktor’s protests.

“Don’t sulk.” The man chides, as Viktor waits silently in the tub. “Here, you’re getting shampooed- Smell.”

He pops open the cap of the bottle with a satisfying _click_ , and holds it up to Viktor’s nose. Generic, soapy scented hair products have never smelled so good.

He lets the man wash his hair with shampoo _and_ conditioner, and rub him down with the fat bar of soap from the shower caddy. Viktor isn’t certain, but the water feels few degrees warmer than last time.

It’s hard to say that Viktor’s gotten used to the whole...being kidnapped thing. But the fingers threading through his hair aren’t _horrible._ The hands rubbing up and down his back aren’t _awful._ And Viktor hates to admit it, but he’s somewhat relieved that it might be a while before he has to go back and face crowds of people, and microphones in his face, and incessant questions of “What happened” and “Where have you been” and “So this is the end of your career, huh?” 

 Maybe he's getting his vacation after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I'm not dead!!! I just got busy...traveling for vacation, preparing for the new school year...real life stuff, haha. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter more than I enjoyed writing it. Can't wait to continue this, but also might not be able to for a while >.>
> 
> Thank you to "A-Puddle-of-Desperation" for reviewing this and giving me advice, as usual <3
> 
> Also, quick reminder: Comments are always appreciated, even if you don't think you are "good" at giving them. You could literally bash your head against the keyboard and post it, and it would still warm my heart <3


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